


Leather and Oils

by TheBobblehat



Category: game of thrones
Genre: F/F, biker wife meets painter wife, feminist wives everywhere, forgive me i'll update "pound of flesh" soon, i can't shake this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBobblehat/pseuds/TheBobblehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As her career sores in the art world, Danny "Stormborn" Targaryen's life has been nothing but work. Under her new manager, Ty Lannister, her latest fantasy series has received praise the world over. But all work and no play has left Danny restless; even her one night stands have become boring. That is, until a leather bound biker walks into her life. </p><p>~~~~~~</p><p>Modern GoT AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather and Oils

Danny never really liked pubs, yet she found herself in them more often than she'd care to admit. At fourteen she started sneaking in at the request of her belated brother, and it never really ended from then on. She was taken to pubs on dates, on weekends, for work, and for leisure. It was always someone else's idea, yet Danny never objected. And so, yet again, she found herself in the corner booth of a pub, picking at the peanuts and staring off into space. The white noise of a football game echoed from the corner as a group of men threw darts beside the bar. It was still early, but being a Saturday, the bar was fairly full. She wondered, vaguely, if she should get something to drink or just head home after this...

"Danny. _Daenerys._ " She blinked, immediately turning to the man sitting across from her. Ty frowned beneath his shaggy beard, his squat arms folded on the table. "Are you listening to anything I'm saying?"

"Probably not."

"The gallery opening," Ty said pointedly. "It's in a month. Your 'Mother of Dragons' pieces are popular enough, but I think you should do something special for the exhibit. Something new. Fresh."

"A month isn't enough time."

"It doesn't have to be a masterpiece," said Ty, taking a sip of his pint. He was a handsome man, Danny supposed, though she'd never found herself attracted, personally. Others must have been though; Danny never recalled Ty arriving at an event with the same girl on his arm. Though that might have had less to do with his looks and more with his money.

"If it's not good I don't want to do it," Danny said simply.

Ty rubbed his forehead. "Just consider it, yes? Something new with the 'Stormborn' name will start a buzz, I know it will."

"Hm." Danny propped her chin in her hand, catching a glance of her reflection in the window. Her platinum hair was braided today, and kept in place by a blue beanie. It was fairly warm though, and so she opted for a loose fitting tank to keep herself cool. On the shoulder of her right arm sat a red tattoo of a three headed dragon. It was an homage to her very first painting. That's when she noticed something beyond the window. A figure had pulled up to park a motorbike, clad in leather. They wore a full, black and tinted helmet, but their strong, slender body hinted a nice face underneath. She watched, curiously, as the figure stepped into the pub. Her eyes followed the person as they approached the bar. There were two things she noticed immediately. Firstly, the back of the biker's jacket was patched with words that read: "You Can't Kill What's Dead." Beneath it sat an upside down kracken, its tentacles reaching upwards. Secondly, whoever this was had a fantastic ass.

Ty made an audible groan. "You and your bikers," he lamented.

"What?" said Danny. "It's not wrong to have a type, is it?"

"Of course not," said Ty. "But one sniff of leather and I've lost you. It's like you've got a radar for it."

"I'd call that a talent."

"Oy. Lemme have a pint. Dark stuff if you've got any." The biker had taken off their helmet just as they placed their order. Danny watched as a jaw length bob of brown hair fell from it, a few strands slick with sweat. The voice was distinctly a woman's, yet there was a handsome roughness to it that Danny couldn't help but take a liking to. The tender gave her a beer, which she paid for with cash. "Ta." Taking a sip, she turned, and Danny caught a glimpse of her face.

She wasn't striking, but there was a presence about her that was not unnoticed. Her shoulders remained squared, even as she relaxed against the bar. Her eyes, which were dark against her pale face, seemed to stare endlessly wherever she looked. And where she looked, after a few seconds, was directly at Danny. A coy smile crossed her lips. She winked.

Danny felt a thrill hit her and she turned away, trying to focus on who she'd come there to see. "Sorry," she said, sitting straighter. "What were we...?"

Ty stared at her, hand propping up his face in a bored manner. "A new piece. For the gallery."

"Right... If I only have a month, it can't be big. A painting usually takes me two."

"Doesn't have to be a painting," said Ty. "It can be something different. Charcoal, maybe. Or a sketch of some kind. I don't know, you're the artist."

"Hm." Danny tapped the edge of the peanut bowl. "Maybe charcoal..." The conversation continued a while longer. By the end of their conversation, Danny had only a slight idea of what to do to help appease her manager. All the while, she had kept an eye on the mysterious woman at the bar. She noticed, with great enthusiasm, that the woman had done the same. Half way through, a man had walked in, wearing the same leather jacket. He was a mousy thing, with big eyes and a wispy beard. Somehow, Danny didn't peg him as a boyfriend. They went to the end of the bar and spoke in low voices. Between Danny's meeting and her own, their eyes crossed more than once.

Finally, the meeting between she and Ty had ended, and Ty offered to settle the bill. "Are you going to need a lift home?" he asked. Without thinking, Danny's eyes went to the woman. By now, her companion was glued to the telly, chugging a pint of his own. Her eyes were already on her by the time Danny looked over. Again, the woman smiled.

"I'll be okay," she told Ty. "I'll catch the underground."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Ty sighed, taking out his wallet. As he slipped from his seat, he glanced at the biker woman. She was talking to the bar tender. "Well..." He turned to Danny. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I don't plan on it."

"Hmph." Ty went to the bar to pay just as a server made his way to Danny's table. He had a glass of white wine on his tray and set it in front of her. Danny looked at him, confused.

"I didn't order this."

"No. Compliments of the lady there." He gestured to the biker woman. When she saw that Danny was looking her way, she turned back to her drink, as though Danny's reaction was uninteresting.

 _Coy, isn't she?_ thought Danny. She smiled at the server. "Thank you." With that, he left her side and headed back into the kitchen. Ty had left through the front, leaving Danny on her own. She eyed the wine, almost with suspicion, before taking a sip. It wasn't the greatest wine, but it wasn't half bad. Danny once more looked to the biker, who was eying her over her shoulder. She was waiting.

Danny ran her fingers up and down the wine glass, staring at the empty seat in front of her. She looked back to check if her mystery woman was still looking her way. She was. Heart skipping a beat, Danny leaned back, trying to seem casual, and nodded. The woman's smile showed teeth. Turning, she said something to the man she was with, who didn't seem too bothered. Grabbing her pint, she made her way to Danny's table, taking a seat across from her.

"Didn't know what you might have liked," she said casually, arm on the edge of the booth. "Figured white wine was a safe bet."

It was Danny's turn to smile. "I like whiskey."

The woman actually laughed. "Do you? Shit, I'll have to remember that." Leaning forward, she held out her hand. "Yara Greyjoy."

Danny shook it. "Daenerys Targaryen."

"Daenerys?"

"Just call me Danny."

"Right." Yara seemed pleased with the name. "And that little friend of yours? The one who left?"

"Tyrion Lannister. My manager."

"Oh? Manager, eh? For what, modeling?"

"Art." Danny sipped her wine, a dark brow cocked. "Does that line usually work?"

"Sometimes," Yara chuckled. "What kind of art?"

"Painting. Oil mostly."

"Hm. I'd assume you're fairly good then."

"I'd say so."

Yara's grin grew charmingly. "Well now, I can't just take your word for it. I think you're gonna have to show me. In person."

Danny leaned against the table, smiling against her hand. "Not very subtle, are we?"

"I've found that subtlety don't get you very far." She took another sip of beer. "So... you've got a fancy for bikers then?"

"What?" Danny sat up. "You heard all that?"

"It ain't exactly loud in here." She was right; even with the small crowd it did have, the loudest thing in the pub was the football game, which was on wall from where they sat. "You ride at all?"

Danny hesitated. "Never on my own. I like my car too much. But I've ridden plenty with people." She took another sip of wine and eyed the zipper on Yara's jacket. "And what about you? Your jacket... Some kind of gang?"

"I think of it more as family," Yara said smoothly. "Ever heard of _Ironborn_?" Danny shook her head. "Eh, probably for the best. I've been riding since I was 13. My brother over there started at twelve."

"That's awfully young."

"You learn early on," said Yara. "Besides, neither one of us died, so I figure we weren't _too_ young, were we?"

"Hardly a reasonable scale."

"Works for us." Yara finished off her pint, wiping her lip with her sleeve. "Ah." She smacked her lips. "What's say you finish up that wine and I get you your whiskey?"

Danny suppressed her laugh. "At four in the afternoon?"

"Got somewhere to be?"

Danny nibbled her lip. In all honesty, it was probably best if she went home and got started on her project for the gallery, but the offer to stay was tempting. "I really should be heading out soon..." she said regrettably.

"Shame," said Yara. "How about this? You take some time to relax yourself a bit, and I'll give you a lift." Danny looked skeptical and Yara held up a hand. "I'll even eat something if it'll make you feel better. But trust me when I say it takes more than one beer to put me off."

"And why should I let a woman who I barely know take me home?" Danny teased.

Yara, her smile permanent, leaned forward on her elbow, popping a few peanuts. "Get to know me, then."

They stayed for the next hour and a half. During that time, they talked. They talked about interests, and about light things. Yara asked her questions about her work, and Danny asked her about her life. Yara, she found, was quick witted and dry, often making Danny laugh at the most inappropriate moments. She had her fair share of stories, as well. More than once, Danny was on the edge of her seat, hanging on to every word Yara with complete attention. She cursed like a sailor, and drank like one, too. But, for Danny's sake, she kept true to her word and didn't have another drop to drink for the entire conversation.  By the time they were ready to leave, Danny felt completely comfortable in Yara's presence.

"Ay, Theon." Yara approached her brother before they left, slapping his wiry shoulder. "I'll see you around. Got a bit of business to take care of."

Theon looked between the pair of them before rolling his eyes. "Christ, Yara. Don't got no shame, do ya?"

"None at all." She swatted his back and turned to Danny. "Shall we?" They stepped outside, Yara handing Danny her helmet. The bike she'd ridden in on was a black and metallic sliver cycle, the seat upholstered with soft, well-worn leather. There was plenty of room for the two of them. Yara got on first, scooting forward enough for Danny to sit behind her. "So love, where to?"

"Central London."

With that, she revved her engine and sped off into the street like a needle sewing through cloth.

Yara rode seamlessly. She handled her motorbike as though it was an extension of her body. The powerful engine warmed Danny's thighs, which were clasped tightly behind Yara's own. Danny's arms had found a tight, comfortable spot around her middle, which was taut and powerful. To handle a chunk of machinery as easily as she did, it would make sense for her strength to be easily felt. When they arrived at Danny's flat, Yara found a spot in Danny's unit's garage. Inside was a small, sporty car and something roughly the size of yara's bike covered in a dusty white tarp. Shutting off her engine, Yara glanced at it, but made no comment.

"Come on up," said Danny, taking her through the door to the side. "Sorry, the lift's been broken a while. We'll have to walk." They headed up the stairs, passing a few noisy rooms in the process. Finally, they got to door 213 and Danny paused. "Oh!" She rounded to Yara. "I forgot to mention. Are you allergic to animals?"

"No. What've you got?"

"Cats."

Yara shrugged. "So long as they stay off my jeans, we're square."

With a smile, Danny opened her door and the two walked inside. Instantly, three fat (admittedly a little ugly) cats meowed at her presence, tails flicking excitedly. They rushed to their mother's ankles, rubbing against them in glee. "I need to feed them. Feel free to make yourself comfortable."

"Thanks." Yara stepped further inside and looked around. Danny's flat was small, but enough room for one person. Art supplies were scattered everywhere in organized chaos; oil paints, old brushes, pallets, half used canvases, and stacks and stacks of printed reference pictures were littered about the place. Yara sat herself on the fur covered couch, eying the place.

"Oh, sorry about the mess!" Danny called from the kitchen, cracking open a can of cat food. "I don't get much company."

"No worries. You should see my place." She placed her boot on the edge of the table, continuing to look around. "You weren't kidding when you mentioned art. How long did you say you've been at it?"

"Since I was fourteen." Danny set the bowls on the counter and walked into the living room. "So." She addressed Yara, who looked up. "Care for a cuppa?"

Yara paused a moment before standing and approaching Danny. She noticed then that Yara was an inch or so taller than her - she also noticed that Yara hunched. Reaching up, Yara tucked a strand of loose hair behind Danny's ear. Danny didn't protest, and shivered at the feel of her leather gloves against her cheek. "How about we skip the tea?"

Danny's heart was beating in her neck. "You sure?"

Yara nodded. "I'm sure." She inched closer. " _You_ sure?"

Danny nodded, wetting her lips. "Yeah. Yeah I'm sure." With that, they closed the gap between them, and kissed deeply.

They stood like that for some time. Yara's hands were flat against the small of Danny's back. Through her tank, she could feel the callouses on her skin. She imagined Yara, spending days on end working on her motorbike. Fixing it, checking the oil, making sure it ran properly by the end of the day. She imagined Yara with nothing but a pair of tight jeans and a sports bra, oil stained and sweating. Danny wasn't given to women very often in her life, but today, it seemed, she'd be giving just about everything she had, and gladly.

They made their way to the bedroom, Danny quickly closing the door behind them before the cats got too curious. Her bedroom was a third of the size of her living room; her bed took up most of the space. Thankfully, they wouldn't be spending too much time on the floor. As they kissed, they began shedding their clothes like fall leaves, piling them on the carpet without care. Once they were down to their breeches and bras, Yara knocked Danny to the bed by her shoulder. When Danny looked up, Yara was already working on the front button of her trousers.

She yanked the pants down to half her thigh. Danny gasped lightly, but didn't stop her. Playfully, Yara nibbled at Danny through her panties. Danny yipped in surprise, propping herself up on her elbows. "Easy down there!"

"Yes ma'am," Yara teased. Rising to meet her face to face, Yara slipped a finger under the elastic waistline of her underwear. With the pad of her middle finger, she found the soft nub hidden between Danny's lips. As she rolled it, Danny sighed deeply and let her head roll back. Yara proceeded to kiss her neck, listening with glee as Danny hummed beneath her.

Eventually, Yara felt a wetness pool beneath her hand. She slipped in a single finger, feeling the tightness of Danny's inner walls. Danny bit her lip, a tiny squeak escaping her. As Yara toyed with her - slowly and with distinct purpose - she undid the hitches of Danny's bra and began gently gnawing on her erect nipples. Danny was arching slightly, her white blond hair spilled over the pillow like honey milk.

"Heh." Yara laughed against her breast. "You're pale all over, aren't you? I figured as much." Danny cracked an eye open as Yara continued to lick the tip of her nipple. "I wonder if your curtains match..."

"They do," Danny purred. "My whole family's platin- _um!_ " Danny jumped slightly as Yara stuck a second finger inside.

"Are they all as pretty?" Yara sat up then, undoing her own pants. She spread her thighs, her knees keeping her righted above Danny's waist. "Because you sure as hell are. You're just about the prettiest face I've seen in a long while." She began to pull off what was left of Danny's bottoms. "I like the pretty ones." Once she had yanked off what was left on Danny's legs, she bent back down. This time, her face nestled itself between Danny's thighs.

"Ugn-!" Danny stiffened, and soon relaxed. Yara's tongue was skilled, for sure. It knew the right bits to hit and just how to hit them. Already, Danny was starting to feel her body crawl its way to the precipice. When Yara added a thumb to the rotation, Danny's mouth widened, and her legs spread on their own accord. She cried out softly, her shoulders twitching. Her muscles convulsed and shook as a wave of orgasm hit her body like a truck. Yara smiled, continuing to rub her clitoris as she came.

"That was fast." She crawled over Danny, a twinkle in her dark eye. "Let's see how many we can get to, eh?"

They stayed in bed for over two hours. By the end of it, the sheets were soiled and twisted, and both women were naked and breathless. Danny's private collection of toys were scattered around the bed. At one point, Yara even replaced the batteries on one of her vibrators. Both of them were reduced to hot skinned, balls of sweat. It was the best sex Danny had had in a very long while.

Yara yawned, scratching her head. "Mm. So when do I get you that whiskey?"

Danny laughed, her arms stretching beneath her pillow. "Well." She turned to Yara, her smile warm and comfortable. "You said you wanted to judge my work for yourself. I've got a gallery opening in a month. Maybe I'll see you there?"

Yara nodded without pause. "Sounds great. Not black tie, is it? I might have to search through my closet..." Again, Danny laughed, Yara joining in. Yara rolled on her side, head propped in hand. She looked around Danny's room, which was, like the living room, littered with canvases and art supplies. "Though I can see the talent. Don't think I need some fancy gallery to judge that." Danny's smile grew and she nestled into the pillow. Yara continued to scan the area. Her eyes paused on something on Danny's bookshelf. "Who's that?"

Danny turned. A picture, framed in black and gold, stared back at them. It was of a man, brown and handsome, with black hair braided and flung over his shoulder. He smiled easily, his thick arm wrapped around a younger Danny's waist. Danny was the one taking the picture. "Oh." She rolled away from Yara, looking at it. "That's my husband."

Yara sat up, alarmed. "Husband? Shit, I could have used a little warning-"

"He died."

Yara's words fell immediately. She lowered herself behind Danny, eyes locked to the back of her head. "I'm sorry." There was a quiet moment between them. "How long ago?"

"Hm." Danny tapped the pillow. "Five years, I think? Close to six."

"You were young."

"Nineteen," Danny said plainly. "He was much older and Pakistani. When I started dating him, my family hated it. So I married him, naturally."

"Naturally," Yara agreed. "Really? Pakistani? Aren't they...?"

Danny rolled over. "He was lovely. A biker, too, if it means anything. His family moved here when he was young. I remember feeling terrified the first time we met. It was a pub, and he and his friends had stopped in for a drink. I've never got on with my brother, and he was being an absolute ponce that night. I forget what about. Drogo stepped in. We started talking after that. I was smitten."

Yara threaded her fingers through Danny's hair. "How'd he die?"

Danny didn't answer immediately. "He and his friends had a falling out. He got injured and refused to go to hospital. When we realized it was infected, it was too late."

"Christ." Yara laid her head on the pillow, their noses barely touching. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," said Danny. "Besides, he wouldn't have wanted me to mourn forever. He always encouraged me to be bolder. To live more, I suppose. I was sheltered my entire life. He helped me climb out of my shell."

"Well..." Yara let her hand fall between them. "He sounds like a good man. I'm sorry he's gone."

"I miss him sometimes. But life moves on, doesn't it?" Her smile returned and she shimmied her way closer to Yara. "The world hasn't stopped, and neither will I."

Yara smiled back. "You're a strong woman." She cupped Danny's hip, rubbing it fondly. "I can see why he married you. Then again, I think we might have the same tastes." They shared another kiss, Yara pulling Danny forward until they were flush up against one another. "I should get going soon. Theon's probably going to wonder where I am at this rate." Danny nodded and Yara slipped out of bed, pulling on her clothes. As she dressed, she casually checked over her shoulder. "Never got remarried, did you? I should probably know that."

Rolling onto her stomach, Danny swung her legs up above her, playfully. "And if I was?" 

Yara leaned in, giving her a long, seductive kiss. "If you were, I'd have to start planning ahead of time."

••••

Opening night went off with a bang. The gallery was filled from head to toe with critics, artists, journalists, and every pretentious celebrity that flooded London these days. It was a huge gallery, with three floors full of artwork. Everything from sculptures to canvas to wood carvings sat on display from artists all over England. The theme was mysticism and fantasy. Danny's own pieces were center stage. Three of the portraits on display were from the _Mother of Dragons_ series. Highly detailed, beautiful oil works of dragons. Each one was priced at well over £20,000. The center one stood out from the others. It was a canvas piece as well, but instead of vibrant colors of oil paint, it was done in simple charcoal. It was a kracken, nestled in a bed of seaweed and algae. It was sleeping comfortably, with sunlight gently pouring through from above. This one had no price tag.

"Ah, there she is!" Danny turned as she was approached by a gaggle of critics, their cocktails high. "Glad you could be apart of this opening, Miss Targaryen. It's so good to meet you in person." She shook hands politely and they continued. "Been a big fan of your work for some time. This one's new though. Any story behind it?"

"Story." Danny looked at the canvas. Yes, there was a story. There was a story about a leather clad woman with a kracken on her back. A story she hadn't been able to finish and had thought about almost every day for a month. Normally, a one night stand didn't linger so much. She'd had plenty of people come and go in her life, but this had been a truly exceptional experience. The worst part was, she had thought the portrait would get it out of her system. It only made her want Yara more.

"Excuse me, madam, do you have a ticket?"

"Ticket? I was invited."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I'm afraid you can kiss my arse, mate."

A rough and completely out of place voice caught Danny's attention - as it did the rest of the gallery. There, in the center, was Yara Greyjoy. She was wearing an ill-fitting suit, with sleeves too long for her and pants too short. The tie was an ugly, putrid shade of yellow with black splotches, and there were a few stray threads off her blazer, which threatened to give way at any moment. Honestly, if she had shown up in a dress, Danny didn't know if she would have been able to recognize her.

Immediately, Danny stepped away from the critics and approached the pair. The usher caught sight of Danny and wrung his hands. "Ah, Ms. Targaryen. I'm sorry, did this woman disturb you? I'm escorting her out now."

"I'd like to see you try."

"It's fine, she's my guest."

While Yara smirked, the usher went pale. "Guest?"

"Yes. Is there a problem? I was allowed a plus one."

An awkward silence sat between the three of them. With nothing else to do, the usher bowed out, leaving the two women together. Yara looked around casually, hands in her pockets. Danny stood there, unsure if she should laugh or shout.

"So..." Yara rocked on her heels. "This is a gallery then? Never been in one."

"I didn't think you'd show up," said Danny.

Yara shrugged. "Why not? You invited me."

"Well I haven't exactly seen you around lately. Thought you would have forgotten about me."

Yara turned back, her smile having yet to leave her face. "Forgot? Why would I? I told you I like the pretty ones." It was then that Yara looked Danny up and down. There was a keen approval in her gaze. "Blue's your color I think."

"Yellow isn't yours," Danny responded. "That tie is awful."

"Isn't it?" Yara held it up. "It's the ugliest thing I could find." That had Danny laughing. Yara glanced over her shoulder at that moment and looked curious. "Is that yours?" Danny turned to see her corner of work. Before she could answer, Yara had wandered off, drawn to Danny's art like a moth to flame. She took in every detail in awe. "Christ... I saw what you had at home but this..." Danny approached, observing Yara's expression. She couldn't deny the tiny surge of joy she felt as Yara looked on, impressed and amazed. "What's this one here?" She gestured to the charcoal.

Danny chose her words carefully. "Ty suggested I do something new for the gallery. I couldn't do a painting, so I... improvised."

Yara turned. "It's a kracken?"

"The theme is fantasy so... yes. It's a kracken."

Yara turned back, her face as bright as Christmas lights. "It's a kracken," she repeated. She looked back to Danny, who had closed a bit of space between them. "I love it."

"Then it's yours." Yara rounded to her in disbelief. "Don't look so surprised. Where do you think I got the idea?"

It was then, in front of all onlookers, that the sly, riding-since-thirteen biker lesbian had tears prick her eyes. Quickly, she wiped them and turned back to the piece. "That's... Christ, Danny, that's -"

"On one condition." Yara looked back up to her. Danny gently took Yara's pinky with her own. "I need to see you more than once a month."

Yara's finger tightened around Danny's, her smile just a touch more fragile now. "Do you? I woulda thought you might be sick of me eventually."

"Is that why? You could have visited at any time; you knew where I lived." Yara just shied her eyes away, a few more fingers looping through Danny's. Danny's smile was warmer now. "No, Yara. I won't get sick of you." Yara nodded, but gave no response in words.

Their hands laced together fully, and remained so for the rest of the evening.


End file.
